My Hairy Prisoner
by BittenBuggy
Summary: This is written in response to the "Love Boat" challange in the Open Scrolls Archive. Legolas finally discovers his fetish.
1. Default Chapter

(Author's Notes) This story is written in response to the "Love Boat" challenge on the Open Scrolls Website. It is more bad humour than romance, but there is a love interest. If you are offended by hairy legs leave now! If you are afraid of cockroaches, leave now! If you think of Legolas as a calm, collected, sane elf, leave now! If you haven't been scared away yet, please continue. :D   
  
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"Hail our victory!" Legolas groaned as another round of ale was passed among the men. They all reeked, and the beer was not helping. With his face buried in his hand, he tried to block out the offending stench.  
  
"Come now, elf. You cannot be drunk already!" He grunted when Gimli clapped him on the back...hard.  
  
"I do not drink such vile things." Gimli snorted loudly and leaned over.   
  
"It would do you good. This is a celebration!" Legolas tried not to loose all the lembas he had eaten earlier when the inebriated Gimli's breath wafted into his nose. He leaned back discreetly, only to find himself wedged between two other men. They were packed tightly on the ship, and one barely had enough room to breath, much less upchuck lembas. He disengaged himself carefully from the rangers, not wanting to be any close to them than was necessary.  
  
"I think I shall go up on deck for a bit of air." Legolas said, to no one in particular. But Gimli was the only one listening.  
  
"Ah, good idea. I hear that's where they've put the extra ale!" Legolas clutched his stomach, his perfect pale skin turning a deep green. Gimli snorted again, this time in amusement. "See elf, now you are a Greenleaf!"  
  
"A plague on Dwarves and–"Another wave of nausea overcame him and he sprinted from the dining hall as fast as he could. Once safe from the malodor, he sighed in relief. Well, thanks to Gimli and the blasted ale, the upper decks were off limits. He supposed down below would have to suffice.  
  
He walked carefully, for he found that sudden movement only served to upset him further. He got a queer look from one of the Rangers when he wandered into one of the rooms in the lower deck. But he immediately regretted it. It was filled with the smell of smoke and sweat. He blinked once, twice, before he could even see through the haze. He could see the outline of several men, sitting around with long pipes in their mouths, puffing away happily. "By the Valar, if you all insist on killing yourselves, just jump overboard, and be done with it!" Several of the men laughed and Legolas wished he hadn't yelled like that.  
  
"Looking a little stressed, Greenleaf. A good smoke will fix you right up." More laugher... Halbarad.... Legolas was too sick to seethe. But later, there would be much seething. Yes...later, Legolas thought as he staggered out of the room. He went down further, where he could no longer hear the laughter of the infuriating-pipe-smoking-ale-drinking-idiots. He tried to open several of the doors alone the hallway, but with no success. Perfect!   
  
With a sigh of frustrated defeat, he leaned back against one of the doors, intending to slump gracefully to the ground. Well, at least as gracefully as one could slump. But to his utter surprise, he felt himself falling backwards. His arms flailed and he landed on his back with the loudest thud he could ever remember himself making. Groaning, because the sudden movement had caused all the vomit to rise in his throat, he just lay there, hoping someone would find him and kill him.  
  
After a time, the fog in his brain dulled and he could hear snickering. If that was Halbarad, coming to torture him, he would take the bloody pipe right out of his mouth and shove it up his–  
  
"Are you just going to lay there?" The voice was gruff, but still defiantly female. Surprised for about the third time that night, he rolled onto his side. Resisting the urge to let the contents of his stomach spill onto the wooden floor panels, he raised his gaze. His eyes widened in sheer shock.  
  
On the wall stood a woman, dressed like a warrior of the Haradrim. She wore a metal vest with no sleeves and a pleated black kilt. He could clearly see that her hands were bound behind her back. She was a prisoner!  
  
"You dare to address me?" He managed when the churning in his stomach had subsided.  
  
"This is my room. It is you that should be fearing to address me, barging like some crazed animal." The look on her face was very smug and not the least bit intimidated. Then she had the audacity to laugh. Laugh. He rolled onto his back, it was always him. It always had to be him.  
  
"I am the Prince of Mirkwood." He said, hoping his voice sounded stronger to her ears than his.  
  
"You don't look like a prince. In fact, at this moment you look remarkably like the green doormat at the entrance to my home. Only this is not my home, this is my room and I would very much appreciate it if you scrapped your dirty self from it and left." Now if there was one thing an elf didn't tolerate, it was being called dirty.  
  
"Look, you little vixen, I have absolutely no intention of staying here a moment longer than necessary."  
  
"Then why aren't you leaving?" Her voice told him she was very much enjoying his discomfort. But he was not about to let her know why exactly he wasn't getting up.  
  
"That is none of your concern." He stated firmly, his prone form still spread-eagled on the ground. Truth be told, he thought his entrails might come flying from his mouth if he sat up. "And I would much appreciate it if you remain silent!" For a moment, he heard no sound. A smug smile on his face, he knew he had won.  
  
Then that retched, vexing laughter. "What is the bloody problem now!"  
  
"I believe sire, that there is a cockroach in your hair." All trivial stomach ailments fled him in an instant as he jumped to his feet. Flailing wildly, he jumped up and down, cursing in a mixture of Elvish and Common Speech. He was an elf, and he loved nature, but he did not like nature in his hair. His head was tilted back and his hands threaded through the silken tresses wildly, trying to get the blasted bugger out. He could hear more laughter and he caught a glimpse of the dark figure, doubled over as far as her bonds would allow. He felt a wiggle around the side of his ear and shook his head violently, seeing the bug fly off across the room. Sighing in utter relief, he dropped himself onto the cot in the room.  
  
He made an attempt to straighten his clothes, twisted as they were. But his beautiful hair he found totally unsalvageable. His comb was upstairs in his pack and Manwë be damned if he was going up there again. Whimpering miserably, he sat up again and tried to smooth it out but gave up in a matter of seconds. He heard more giggled and looked again into the corner where the prisoner was held. "Yes, of course, that was just hilarious." He glowered and then turned away, in search of more foul little creatures that might dare to disturb his satiny hair. In full blown spoiled-princely-pout mode, he opened and shut all the drawers in the room, vainly searching for anything that resembled a brush. "In my boot." The still amused voice came from the other side of the room.   
  
"What?" Legolas asked irritably.  
  
"A comb. There is one in the side of my boot." Oh Elbereth, he was in love! He pondered squealing in elation, but that was a bit overboard, even for him. Instead, he resigned himself to leaping across the room and kissing the surprised prisoner full on the mouth.  
  
"You are quite possibly the most wonderful person in the world!" He babbled as he began rummaging through all her pockets. Triumph! He pulled the thick-toothed comb from her long boot and danced around with it for a moment, hugging it tightly to his chest before attacking the knots that had dared assault his beautiful tresses.  
  
Interrupting his knot-war, a voice broke in. "Now, perhaps you could remove these chains?"


	2. Boots and Barricades

Legolas pondered her request for a moment. "Will you try to escape?"  
  
"Eventually." She answered simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "But I would probably not need to harm you."  
  
Legolas snorted, in a very unelf-like fashion. "Probably? My dear, you couldn't harm me if I was the one in chains." She simply laughed. He narrowed his eyes at her innocence. "You do not believe me?" More laughter. Frustrated, he stalked over, inches from her face. "Fine." He reached into a drawer, which he had earlier hoped housed a comb, pulling out the little iron key. His reached behind her and they were forced very close. She grinned at him and the key almost slipped from his hand.  
  
Once she was free, she turned him around and brought his hands behind his back. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked, his voice stern.  
  
"Giving you the chance to beat me of course. Did you not remember what you said?" A second too late, he realized he had made a big mistake and he heard the iron click around his wrists. She was smiling at him again, and he tested the bonds on his hands. His eyes focused on her as she began gathering up her cloak and weapons, which had lain on the opposite end of the room. For a moment he was actually afraid when she unsheathed the short sword to inspect it. But she quickly shoved it back into its scabbard and turned grabbed one of the tables. "Now what are you doing?"  
  
"Barricading the door of course."  
  
"Of course," he mimicked. Drat, he thought. Drat, drat, drat. She paid him no heed, dragging over pieces of furniture. Once she had sufficiently drug over everything that was not bolted to the floor, she brushed her hands together and then put them on her hips. After her inspection, she turned to Legolas for approval, who just rolled his eyes.  
  
"Quite effective, don't you think?" She asked.  
  
"Oh yes, I'm sure no one will be able to get in now. Except of course if they use the hatch on the other side of the room." His voice dripped with sarcasm. She blanched. As if on cue, the sound of footsteps and loud voices could be heard overhead. Legolas had a smug grin on his face as she looked around in terror. The sound of the hatch being unlocked seemed usually loud to them both.  
  
Then suddenly, her eyes brightened and she raced over to the ladder. "Oh yessss..." She called, the wood probably muffling none of it. "That's it! Oooo, harder!" For a moment, Legolas thought she was mad, then it dawned on him. His jaw dropped down to his ankles. "Mmmm, yes baby, that's what I like..." There was a bit of silence from the other side, then great gales of laughter. Legolas's eyes were bugging out of his head, he was utterly speechless.  
  
The sound of retreating footsteps was heard above, and the men's laughter stained Legolas pink, right to the pointed tips of his ears. She climbed off the ladder rungs and turned around to face him, smiling happily with herself. The elf was still in a mild state of shock. "What did you-"His voice cracked in disbelief and he cleared his throat. "Surely you didn't mean-"  
  
"Of course I did." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. She walked back over to the cot and plopped down, stretching her stout frame across the mattress. Legolas couldn't help but notice that her kilt had ridden up a bit, exposing quite an expanse of leg. It was then that he wished for a candle. The moonlight coming through the small, circular window was veiled by a curtain, but was enough to let them move without bumping into things, but he could have sworn he saw hair on her legs.  
  
He blinked, seeing if it would clear his vision. Then, realizing how stupid that was, tried a different tactic. "So what are you doing here?" His voice was carefully veiled in sweetness.  
  
She looked at him curiously. "I thought that was quite obvious. I was caught."   
  
"Did you misunderstand on purpose, or are you just stupid?"   
  
She grumbled something like "you twit" before tossing an arm over her eyes. "Could you light a candle?" Legolas asked, again using his sweet I-can-get-whatever-I-want-because-I-am-the-most-beautiful-thing-on-Eru's-green-earth voice.  
  
"No."  
  
"Uncover the window a bit?"   
  
"No."  
  
"Get me something to eat?"  
  
"No."   
  
"Get me something to drink?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Say something besides no?"  
  
"No." Then she uncovered her eyes with a dramatic sigh of exasperation. "You are perhaps the most irritating person in the world!" Legolas couldn't believe what he was hearing.  
  
"Excuse me? I'm irritating? You are the one that put me in these confounded chains in the first place!"  
  
"You should not have released me."  
  
"Yes, thank you. I'll remember that next time I have a bloody Haradrim she-warrior chained in an otherwise unoccupied room on a blasted ship!"  
  
"Good. Now if you will kindly shut up, I would like to get some proper sleep!"  
  
"Proper sleep?!" Legolas said, baffled. "You are concerned about–"Wack Legolas grunted as something hit him hard in the chest. Stunned for a moment, he looked around for the offending article. It lay on the ground, a few feet from him. "I'm sorry, did you just hit me with a boot?" His voice was calm, unusually curious. Nothing like that had ever happened to him.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"You just hit the Prince of Mirkwood with a boot?"  
  
"No, I just hit an unbearably annoying, egotistical, spoilt, bratty elf with a boot. And that particular elf better watch his words or he'll find the next boot in a more unsavory location." Stuptified, Legolas shut his mouth. He couldn't believe someone was talking to him like this! You just wait until my Ada hears about this!  
  
She had laid back once again, with her arm thrown haphazardly over her face and her other arm thrown wide so that it hung off the edge of the cot. A very ungraceful and distasteful position in his opinion. "So what do you plan to do with me now."  
  
"Well, I am in need of a new doormat."   
  
"I meant immediately."  
  
"Oh," She answered simply. "If you don't shut up and let me sleep, I'll throw you out that little window." He shifted uncomfortably, knowing that she would be one to make good on her threats. When he heard the even breathing that came from the opposite end of the room, a clever idea popped into his head.


	3. Love and Drool

The Haradrim was sleeping soundly, Legolas could tell by the obnoxious snoring. His eyes narrowed in annoyance, how he wished he could just smite the ridiculous creature. He had been overjoyed when he felt cold mental against the tips of his fingers and now he was in the process of picking the very stubborn lock that bound his hands. The pin however, seemed to have no intention of cooperating. This was made much worse by the position his hands were in, facing up and away from each other. Long fingers are good for more than the obvious it seems, he thought smugly.  
  
The stout Haradrim gave off another snort in her sleep, making Legolas cringe. Even Gimli wasn't this bad. Ugh, he thought when he distinctly saw a bit of drool slide down her cheek. If this was what a lady Haradrim was like, what must the men be...Oh gross! Legolas thought, not enjoying that prospect at all.   
  
This seemed enough to renew his energy and before long, he had positioned the pin just right and the iron bands fell open. Relief flooded him as he stretched his arms way over his head. Now, he could just slip out and lock her in. No...he would have to tell someone, but what would he say? "Yes, you know that Haradrim you have in chains, yes well, I let her out." And then of course, with that little show she had put on. Oh heavens what would they think! That defiantly was NOT an option. Maybe if he was very careful, he could pick her up and put the chains back on. Yes! That was it.  
  
He walked silently over to the corner of the bed. Reaching down, he touched her shoulder, gauging any response. He pulled his hands back and made a face when he saw the saliva that had pooled on her pillow. He reached down again, slipping a hand behind her shoulders and then under her knees. He felt the tickle of short, coarse hairs and his eyes widened. No maiden he had ever seen had hair on their legs. Nor any other parts of their bodies, well despite the obvious. Intrigued, he bent his head a bit closer, peering at the furred legs. But she chose just that instant to shift and her knee came up, catching him right in the nose.  
  
Yelping, Legolas fell back ungraciously on his rump, his hands placed delicately over his injured face. His eyes watered and he blinked away the moisture. Damn that woman! She is insufferable even in sleep! But right now he could not afford to take the time and nurse his beautiful nose. Sniffling, then whimpering with the pain that had induced, he crawled back on his knees. Again, he slipped his hands under her, but this time he ignored the desire to sate his curiosity.  
  
He rose to his feet, intending to take her with him but she was like a lead pipe. He tried again, but she hardly budged. Legolas narrowed his eyes. So, she sought to best him again. Well he would teach her a lesson. He spread his feet, and bent at the knees, bracing himself. This time he pulled as hard as he could, his face contorted with exertion. She succeeded in lifting her all the way into his arms, but he would never be able to get across the room. Dropping her back as gently as possible, he thanked the Valar she slept like the dead.  
  
This was not going to work. Miffed, he crossed his arms and surveyed the room. There was nothing to put her on and roll, so that was out of the question. For a moment he contemplated just tying her to the bed, but someone would still be down later to check on her and there would be a huge uproar over who had moved her.  
  
Grumbling, he decided he would have to drag her. Please let her not wake up, he begged. Summoning up his courage, he grasped both her wrists and braced himself. He started pulling slowly Mandos, was she heavy! He had her upper body half-way off the bed, with her legs up in the air. If he hadn't been so frustrated, he would have taken the time to laugh at what an amusing picture she made. Grasping her un-booted ankles, he lifted slightly before dropping them on the floor. He winced when he heard the loud thud, but she continued snoring.  
  
Grabbing hold of her arms again, he hauled her towards the shackles on the other side of the room. The frustrating "tug, stop, rest, tug, stop, rest" was driving him crazy. And through it all, she just lay unconscious like an extremely heavy sack of Sam's potatoes. Sighing with relief when he got close enough to hook her wrists into the chains, he grabbed her hand and tugged it upwards.  
  
After that, everything seemed to happen all at once. As soon as her hand touched the cold metal, her eyes shot open and she threw him to the ground. Not even giving him time to recover, she leapt on top of him, driving all the air from his lungs in one big whoosh. He saw stars and felt a little light-headed, but he could distinctly make out the sound of wheezing. Of course, he had no idea what she had any business making that noise for, she wasn't the one who'd just been attacked. His eyes cleared enough for him to see her shoulders shaking, more wheezing sounds coming from her mouth. She was laughing. Who laughs like that?  
  
She was still sitting on his chest, which made it exceedingly difficult to breath. He tried to tell her as much, but before he had time to voice his discomfort, she rolled off of him and onto her feet. Next she did something completely ridiculous; she offered him her hand. With an indignant growl which soon turned to a wince, he cambered to his feet. She just shrugged her shoulders and went back to sit on the bed.  
  
He was shocked for a moment that he had allowed her to win so easily. And what was that sudden nice business she was trying to pull? He eyed her warily, but she did not seem in the least bit disturbed.  
  
"What is your problem?" She asked in a seemingly very interested voice.  
  
"I don't have a problem."  
  
"Ha, sure thing honey." Legolas was taken aback at the endearment. Stepping closer, he watched curiously as she began combing her hair. At first, he was appalled at the brutal nature she treated it. He couldn't bare hair to be abused, no matter what an unfavorable head it was on.  
  
"Stupid human." He grumbled as he walked over and jerked the comb from her hand.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?" She asked indignantly, all trace of kindness gone from her voice. Legolas was not put off by it.  
  
"I am going to teach you how to do this right." He said and proceeded to begin untangling the tortured strands.  
  
"Brushing your hair is not like waging war you know." He said, still mad. "It is like making a beautiful painting, or writing an eloquent poem." He grinned mischievously. "And making love."  
  
"That's so corny." She said, her voice exasperated.  
  
"Which part?"  
  
"All of it."  
  
Legolas was now severely insulted. "You couldn't possibly appreciate the art and beauty. You are a human after all." Ah and the card was played. Now she would stand up and put her hands on her hips and tell insult him. And he would laugh. But to his surprise, she did no such thing.  
  
"Yes, you are right." Her nonchalant attitude bothered him. "And you know why we humans don't appreciate it? Because we don't care."  
  
"You have never been in love?" Wow, Legolas thought, where did that come from?!  
  
"Sure I have. You?" She did not elaborate and he did not press the matter. But he was more than willing to share his experiences.  
  
"Oh yes, many times."  
  
"What were they like? The women you fell in love with?"  
  
Legolas smiled wistfully. "Oh they were all wonderful, but none could compare to my greatest love. She was beautiful, wise, powerful and the most excellent warrior I have ever seen."  
  
"Really? How powerful?" This seemed to peak the greatest interest.  
  
"She could do anything. She could heal wounds, read minds, fight millions of foes against incredible odds. AND she was the lost mortal daughter of Elrond!" Legolas saw his companions eyebrows raise. Wait, companion? Adversary was more like it.  
  
"So you are bound to her?" An odd question, Legolas thought.  
  
"No, not anymore. She died many years ago." Legolas felt his eyes mist as he spoke of her.  
  
"How did she die?" The mortal woman actually sounded concerned.  
  
"She blocked an arrow, which would have surely killed me. Instead it took her own life. Even with her dying breath she was selfless, telling me to love another and be happy."  
  
"What was her name?"  
  
Legolas sighed. "Why...Mary-Sue of course."


	4. Handshakes and Hatches

"Ouch You brut!" The Haradrim yelled of the millionth time.  
  
"Well if you would just be still!" Legolas was still trying to get the knots out of her hair. With a frustrated sigh, he put his hand on his hip, brush in hand, and eyed her critically. "Honestly, have you EVER brushed this mass of tangles?" When she just grunted, he took that as a no.  
  
"I have better things to do than pamper myself like some sissy elf." She said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Honesty," she mocked him, and he did not appreciate that.   
  
"Look, you stupid, dirty human, you have no right to speak to me that way. And frankly, I have had quite enough of your behavior." This time his voice was strong and commanding. He was truly fed up. To add to his annoyance, she stood and curtsied low.   
  
"Forgive me, sire." And while she was still bent over, he saw her shoulders quiver and her breath coming in short bursts of suppressed laughter.  
  
Legolas's eyes blazed, "You will NOT mock me again!" She then stood and looked him straight in the eye, her lips still quirked.  
  
"I really thought we were past this." She sighed. "You are such a brat." Legolas bit back a retort. Somehow he knew he would only dig himself deeper.  
  
"Fine Have it your way." Feigning temporary defeat, he stuck his hand out. She eyed him curiously, an eyebrow raised, before spitting in her hand and reaching out to clasp his.  
  
Legolas pulled his jerked his hand away and jumped back, holding his it protectively to his chest. "What are you DOING?" His eyes darted from her face to her hand, still dripping with the saliva from her mouth. His face crinkled in disgust.  
  
"You didn't want to shake my hand?" She asked, looking genuinely confused.  
  
"You just spit in it!" Legolas sqeaked, nearly yelling. He had never heard of anything so..so..so barbaric! She couldn't even begin to image how unsanitary that was!  
  
"Yes, so?"  
  
"That is disgusting! I don't know where your mouth has been!" Come to think of it, he didn't even want to know. He shivered with the very idea. She just rolled her eyes at him and wiped the offending hand on her kilt. He made a note not to let that hand make contact with him EVER. There is no telling how many revolting germs covered it.  
  
"Are elves so hypocritical as you?" She asked as she sat on the cot, it creaking under her weight.  
  
"I have no idea what you mean by that."  
  
"Oh come now, I know your hands and mouth have probably many more interesting places than mine." Legolas would have choked, but his mouth was suddenly dry. He hoped he had interpreted that incorrectly.  
  
"Excuse me?" That was a lame response. Way to go elf-boy, that's the way to defend yourself.   
  
"I am sure that many maidens lust for you, though it is not hard to tell why." By the Valar, now she was trying to flirt with him He could have laughed. But that amused feeling fled with the next words from her mouth. "You are a pretty, pretentious, spoiled prince." Whoa, back up. She didn't just call him pretty...he had knocked out teeth for that remark. "One whom I'm sure has a never-ending trail of shallow, gold-craving girls handing on your every word "  
  
"As a matter a fact a do." Legolas snapped back, too angry and truly offended to care.  
  
"But have you ever had a woman, Legolas?" For a moment, Legolas was convinced he had heard her wrong. But the smile was gone from her face and she was looking at him intensely. Where had that come from? He blinked, and she stood. If he hadn't been so trapped in the gaze, he would have noticed that was the most fluid movement she had ever made.  
  
She approached him slowly, a feral grin on her face now. "Well, Legolas?" She brought her hand up to his shoulder and let it travel lazily down his chest. He gulped, that was the second time she had called him by name. He liked the way she said it, her voice was deeper and gruffer than most. He remembered the fuzz on her legs...perhaps this would be a good way to get a closer peek... He grinned back then, what he considered to be his most charming, sensual smile that sent most ladies into a puddle at his feet. He reached up to cup her face, and–  
  
Bang, bang They both jumped and stared at the furniture that was piled high against the door. A large dresser tipped precariously and Legolas moved to catch it. "Who is in there!" Aragorn. Legolas groaned, but in his moment of despair, he let go of the dresser and the whole thing came down on his foot. "Open this door immediately!" Thankfully the Haradrim had stuffed a piece of his shirt into his mouth before he could holler, but it did not keep a colorful litany of elvish curses from escaping his lips. The sound, however muffed, could still be considered quite loud in the quietness of the room, so the woman had put her hand over his mouth. Disgusted, Legolas realized this was the same hand she had earlier spit into. Trying to twist away, he was surprised when she simply released him and let him fall to the floor in an inelegant heap.  
  
The sound of shuffling feet could be heard above their heads, in the direction of the hatch in the ceiling. Legolas just stared, so this was his fate. He never thought it would end this way. The brave, glorious son of King Thranduil would die of embarrassment. He let his head fall back against the wood, his brain not even registering the loud thud or the extremely uncomfortable nature of what he had just done. Defeated, he appeared just as he had when first entering the room, spread-eagled and sick. He would have laughed at the irony when a burly hand snatched him by the back of his neck and started tugging him towards the corner of the room.  
  
Of course, Legolas thought, amused in his mad state, she could not possibly let him die honorably. She had to make sure he was hidden like a coward first. He neither helped, nor hindered her efforts, allowing her to simply drag him across the room. He slumped back against the corner of the wall while she threw a scratchy wool blanket over him. Footsteps could still be heard above, and the distinct sound of a lock being opened.  
  
Legolas heard her frustrated sigh and she shoved his leg under the blanket with the rest of his corpse. He heard more shuffling, and then triumphant shout from one of the rangers and the hatch door made a creaking sound as it was swung open.  
  
Legolas took his last few breaths as he heard several people descend the latter. Footsteps came towards him and he sighed, knowing he would be discovered. "Release me!" He heard the order from across the room. "Do it now you bloody orcs!" Oh wonderful, Legolas thought as she went on to tell them exactly what they were with the help of a few choice phrases. He couldn't help but be impressed, men of Gondor did not even swear like that  
  
"Silence!" Aragorn's voice again. "You will not speak unless we ask it!" Oh, they were in for it now. He would have laughed were it not for the fact he was trying to remain invisible. The Haradrim did not disappoint. She laughed loudly, much to the displeasure of the rangers, Legolas was sure. "I said silence!" Aragorn barked again. Muffled snorts could be heard from the imprisoned female. An irritated growl could be heard from the future king.  
  
Tact, Legolas counseled silently. It is something you must acquire in order to converse with this insufferable woman. But it was not one of his old friend's strong points.  
"What was going on in this room?" More laughter. Nope, Legolas thought, he's not going to get anywhere. "Speak, Haradrim...Be mindful that you are only spared for information."   
  
"I am spared for information on war plans, of which I may remind you, I have none. I am not kept alive so that you can interrogate your way into my personal life." He could almost see the shock on Aragorn's face and he giggled despite himself.  
  
His next words were sputtered, unsure, and most defiantly inebriated, "This is my ship!"  
  
"No, actually this ship belongs to Herin, or at least it did until you killed him. Now it is the sole property of the king of the Harad, all licences and agreements protected in said copyright. And you, you pathetic excuse for a man, have stolen it unlawfully "  
  
Legolas could image that Aragorn was speechless. And judging by the lack of retort, that was a fair assessment. Legolas knew that he, like everyone else it seemed, did not know quite how to manage this obstinate, intolerable piece of work. After a long bout of silence, Aragorn seemed to concede. "Have it your way, woman. Perhaps you will be more agreeable if we leave you down here without food for few days " More feet shuffling could be heard and the hatch was reopened. His elven ears picked up the sounds of Aragorn's grumbling and he snickered. The hatch was swung closed and almost immediately, the wool blanket was ripped off him. The Haradrim stood there, hands on her hips, looking quite happy and confident. All semblance of what would have been a 'thanks' fled when he saw her I-am-so-much-better-and-more-capable-of-handling-emergency-situations-than-you look.  
  
She took his hand and hauled him easily to his feet, smirking. "You should not speak that way to the Lord Aragorn." Legolas said sternly, though a quirky smile played at the edge of his lips.  
  
"You think I should treat him differently because he will be a king?" He nodded and she snorted, a sound that was becoming far too familiar for him. "Not likely." Legolas raised his hands in mock defeat, he was not up to arguing again.  
  
He was glad he had, for in the next moment, she brought her hand to the crease of his hip, slowly sliding her fingers up around the waist of his leggings. His eyes widened, but he made no move to stop her.   
  
"Now where were we?" Her voice was low and sultry. Legolas grinned, the memory of her fuzzy legs still fresh in his mind. Manwë be damned if he wasn't going to have a closer look...


	5. Elves and Leg Hair

"Mmmmm....." Legolas murmured as he lay beside her on the floor. Sometime in the middle of their little romp, they had taken quite a fall onto the floor. Legolas's right side was a bit sore from the tumble, but it was defiantly worth it. The Haradrim had her arm flung inelegantly over her forehead, her other arm flung out to the side.  
  
Legolas couldn't resist reaching over and running his fingers through the long furies in the crook of her arm, then down her body to the shorter, courser hairs on her legs. He had been utterly fascinated by the sensation. At first it had bothered him, to the point of genuine annoyance, but when those rough hairs rubbed against his...ahem.   
  
She rolled over and wrapped her arm tightly around his waist. "Don't you want to be gone before morning?" That was certainly not what he had expected to hear. 'Wow, that was amazing!' or 'You were incredible!' would have been fine.  
  
"You wish me to leave?" He asked. He wanted to stay here, just for a while. Perhaps sleep a bit—  
  
"You can stay if you like, but I am sure your friends will come looking for you again." She paused before adding, "I don't think I will be able to hide you forever."  
  
"I will return to them, 'ere dawn. Let's just rest here for a while..." His voice drifted off as sleep overcame him. Happy and contented, the world began to fade into the land of blissful, hairy-leg-filled dreams.  
  
When he awoke again, he could see the first few flecks of sun across the horizon through the thinly veiled window. Morgoth! Could it possibly get worse! Legolas thought, but his mind was soon changed when he felt thick ropes tied around his body. He was still lying on the cot, face down, his legs tied up and bound so that they were bent backwards at the knees and his bottom sat high in the air; which was, he thought, a VERY undignified pose. An uncomfortable cramp was beginning in his lower back, and he was about to call for help when a hand was clamped over his mouth.  
  
He felt the tickle of breath in his ear as the Haradrim spoke, "Shh...do not worry, no harm will come to you." Her voice brought him no comfort and he struggled against the bonds, his words of protest muffled in her palm. For Eru's sake, what was she up to now?! he thought, ceasing his useless struggling. And why in Arda he had let his guard down! Mussing silently while she moved off of him to shuffle about the room, It was the hair..." he decided at last. Yep, defiantly. She had distracted him with that delightful sensation. Curse her, and curse all women with hairy legs!   
  
Blessedly, he was flipped over and his legs were unbound so that he could stretch them out, though they were still locked together. He ignored the still very cramped state of his appendages, focusing instead on the smirking face of the she-warrior. For the first time, he was truly enraged with her behavior, and she must have seen this in his steely gaze because her own faltered and she looked down at the ground, as if in shame. "Release me." He commanded softly. "You have had your fun." For a moment he could have sworn she looked offended.  
  
"That had nothing to do with it, Legolas." She said softly, still staring at the floor. He had the irrepressible urge to spit at her feet, but that would be very unbecoming of the son of Thranduil. Of course...even at this moment, he could think of nothing more important than his father's etiquette lessons.  
  
"You will not address me by that name." He said, his voice hard and cold. But this did not seem to bode well with her, for she shot him a look that would have frightened him, if he were not already so angry.  
  
"You will be silent, you have no power as it stands." She reached over to the cot for a strip of cloth and walked over calmly. He stiffened as she placed the cloth in his mouth and firmly tied it behind his head. He did not struggle, knowing it would be useless. One she was satisfied it would keep him quiet, she sat down beside him with her hip against his shoulder. She reached up to touch the side of his face but he jerked away, refusing to even look at her.  
  
"Legolas, you must understand. I mean no harm to come to you." She paused for a moment, a far away look on her face. "I only wish to return home..." Well then, bloody Halls of Mandos, why was she here in the first place?! He thought, gritting his teeth as much as he could with the cloth stuffed uncomfortably between his lips.  
  
"I know what you are thinking.." She continued softly, "And I come by my own will. My brother was very ill...and the king commanded that everyone send all the able bodied men from their families to serve Mordor...None of us wished to go, but my brother would not have lasted even minutes in battle. So I went in his stead, taking on his name. But now that all my people are destroyed, I only wish to return to my family...those that are left." Her voice was sad and lonely, making Legolas forget his anger. She was not the enemy, she was just a brave young woman, fighting for what she believed to be right... But she still had him bloody well in chains! He pushed his tongue against the gag in his mouth, trying in a vain attempt to push it from his lips. "I will remove it for a moment." She said and untied it.  
  
He closed his lips and tried to coax enough saliva into his mouth so that his tongue would work properly. "You fight for Mordor, they will not let you leave this ship alive, woman or no." As he spoke, she had gotten up and lifted up a rug on the opposite side of the room. An rounded, iron handle could be seen. She fingered it lightly, before turning back towards him.  
  
"I know this, which is why I have you bound as you are." His forehead furrowed in incomprehension. "I have spent most of my life in the shadows, I know the ways of stealth. Even a ranger of the north could not detect me...but an elf could." By this time she had reached him and grabbed him behind the arms, hauling him off the bed. His bottom banged against the floor and he grimaced, but she just continued to drag him along.  
  
"There are other elves on this ship, Haradrim. My capture alone will not help you." He was a little afraid now, he had no idea what she would do with him.  
  
"This also I know," She said as she reached down and grasped the latch. "But it seems all elves have a fascination with body hair." And with that, she pulled hard and the wooden planks rose to reveal two slender, dark haired elves, also bound and looking quite miserable.  
  
Legolas was lowered into the hatch carefully and when his bottom was safely seated on the floor of the compartment, the other elves looked up at him sheepishly. It took only a moment for Legolas to recover from his shock before falling sideways, loud shouts of laughter pouring from his lips.  
  
"We only wanted a peek." One grumbled, looking more than a little ashamed.  
  
The other then spoke up, his voice annoyed. "Shut up, Elrohir."   
  
---------------------------------------------------------  
  
The End


End file.
